


Spell

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: What happens when National Kissing Day and Friday 13th coincide?





	Spell

There’s a full moon between the trees. The witch sighting is probably a hoax, though he can’t help but feel a little validated when a black cat slinks around the legs of the ladder propped against the side of the building.

“No, Mulder,” she says.

Telepathy, mind-reading, divination or just fucking smart, Scully always knows what he’s thinking. He walks to the ladder. The cat sits at his feet. He bends to rub behind its ears. It loops through his legs and purrs. “Cute pussy.” He looks at his partner, her lips, her perfect, plush lips. She shakes her head. Fucking smart.

“You would make the best witch, Scully.”

She indulges him with a small laugh. “How so? My red hair?” Her hands smack against the wings of her coat as it flies out on a gust of wind. “Or have you discovered the collection of spell books I keep under my bed?”

The cat runs away. He stands under the ladder and beckons her. “I have never seen under your bed, Scully.”

She takes a few paces towards him, eyebrows ready. “It’s Friday the thirteenth, Mulder. You’ve lured me out here on some flimsy pretext. And you’re under a ladder. You may have just lucked out.”

“Never, Scully. Not as long as you’re by my side. You’re my lucky charm, my talisman, my amulet. Come here.”

“Why?”

“I want to fall under your spell.”

“I haven’t cast one,” she says, but her fingers are in his and her coat brushes against his and she’s looking at their feet and in the light of the moon he can see the blush on her neck. She whispers, “yet,” and he pulls her in.

The apex of the ladder points to the stars and the man in the moon is grinning. He kisses her. Gentle at first, then deeper. “It’s National Kissing Day too, Scully. And I think,” he whispers, kissing her again and pulling his coat around her, “that I just lucked in.”


End file.
